


Keep on Walking

by glackedandmullered



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glackedandmullered/pseuds/glackedandmullered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael was pretty sure he'd just walked by the same three guys twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep on Walking

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: ot6 Michael goes missing after taking a late night walk and the boys get really really worried.
> 
> fic exchange with frickmicoo on tumblr

Michael was pretty sure he'd just walked by the same three guys twice.

Once leaning against a wall just outside of his home and again just now, stood at the edge of the street with their heads down and arms folded, bodies pointed in Michaels direction. He sped up his walking just slightly, not wanting to draw attention to himself but just needing to get home as soon as he could.

He tucked his hands tighter in his pockets, fingers clutching the material inside nervously.

“Hey asshole!” Michael ducked his head down and kept walking, ignoring the call behind him.

_They aren’t talking to you, just keep walking._

“Hey shithead! I’m talking to you!” _Shit._

Footsteps, hard and heavy on the ground and a hand on his shoulder stop him in his place. A rough shove sends him flying in the direction of the wall of a side street and he cursed, hands coming out to break his fall and the impact sent shockwaves of pain up his arms as they collided with the ground. He skidded on his knees for a painful second before the man – the bottom half of his face covered with a thin black scarf – grabbed him by the back of his jacket and jerked him up to face him.

“Give me your wallet.” The man growled, holding Michael tight by the thin collar of his shirt.

“I don’t have it!” Michael spat back, anger rising to protect him from his fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, give me your money!” The man was shaking him, pressing him against the wall.

“I don’t fucking have any, asshole!” He realised his mistake immediately when he was thrown violently to the ground and a solid, heavy boot entered his line of sight and hit him directly in the chest. He coughed and choked as all the breath was expelled from his lungs in one quick burst.

“Teach him a lesson!” One man laughed, his cheesy movie line going straight over Michaels head as the pain surged through him.

“Think you can talk to me like that?” He punctuated his rough words with a swift punch to Michaels face, sending him reeling and causing blood to splatter the sidewalk beside him. Michael gasped as his nose warmed and he could feel the trickle of liquid seep down his face. That was the moment that the other men joined in, kicking and punching everywhere they could, yelling insults at him that went in one ear and out the other as the blood roared in Michaels head.

The last blow he felt hit the side of his head; right in the temple his head whipped sideways with the force and he saw black creeping into his vision fast. His head was foggy, he couldn’t understand what the men were saying any longer and felt his body being manhandled before they were gone and the muffled silence pulsated around him. He blinked sluggishly, eyelids flickering as he vaguely recalled the main warning everyone gave when you get a head injury. Don’t fall asleep. That was useless, he discovered, because everything inside him was telling him to do just that.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to rest. They stayed closed.

\---

“It’s been ages, Geoff. Where the fuck is he?” Ryan worried, pacing in front of the living room TV. Almost three hours since Michael had left for his walk and he had yet to return. He was normally out for an hour at most, usually less than that and three hours was crossing a line into the guys severely worrying about their boyfriend. Geoff shook his head, joining Ryan in his pacing and trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“He’s still not answering.” Jack announced, cell phone clutched tightly in on hand as he ran the other through his hair anxiously.

“His phone’s probably on silent.” Ray reasoned quietly, unsure of his own words. He had Gavin on his lap, the Brit staying quiet despite the sharp level of panic that was rising within him.

Geoff rubbed his chin restlessly, “I should have gone with him.” He scolded himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Jack rubbed his shoulder while re-dialling Michael’s number on his phone at the same time.

“He’s a grown man; he can go for a walk on his own, Geoff.”

“Apparently not.” Geoff argued back, crossing his arms and staring out of the window silently begging Michael to walk around the corner, come back home. He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder and a jacket was pressed against his chest. Gavin motioned for him to take it and he did as the Brit held his gaze, a serious expression on his face. “Come on, we’re going to look for him.”

Geoff nodded and within two minutes they were on the streets, following Michaels normal route and hoping to everything that they would run into him on his way back.

\---

Michael awoke face down on the concrete. His cheek was stinging from being pressed against the loose stones on the ground and his head was pounding. There was a pain radiating from his chest and stomach that made him feel nauseous as he tried to raise himself up on sore arms. White hot agony shot up his leg as he made to get onto his knees and he fell sideways back to the ground with a shout. Then he remembered where he was.

He scooted backwards and kept his eyes on the track ahead, part of him fearing the men were still there, waiting for him. There was a crack straight through the right lense of his glasses and it was throwing off his depth perception to such a degree that the nausea reared up full force and he found himself leaning over to the side, vomit spewing out of his mouth in a thick stream. His stomach cramped and the skin around it ached from bruises he knew must be under his shirt and he was grateful when he could stop puking and was given a moment of relief. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand he let out a groan of disgust and brushed the mess off on his jeans, getting a good look at his legs for the first time. The material over his right knee was completely shredded, congealed blood soaking into the frayed edges and small fragments of stone clinging to the wound that was slowly oozing blood down his shin.

He had to get his boys.

He patted his pockets and realised with a groan that his phone was gone. Of course it was. The only thing he had with him when he left the house had been the cell, of course they would take it. Steeling himself he pushed himself up the wall and took a wary step, testing his knee and wincing as it near enough gave way beneath him but he knew there wasn’t enough pain for it to be broken, at least he had been lucky there. Using the wall for support he began limping out of the side street, favouring his right leg as he walked. He glanced around the corner warily, eyes wide and searching for any sign of the men coming back to finish the job. Rationality told him they were long gone by now, if they had wanted him dead he would be just that. They had the only possession he’d had on him, they were content. He began his painful trek back home.

After twenty minutes he was regretting his decision to go so far with his walk as he passed yet another street that was much too far from his home for his liking. It was late, the streetlights the only source of light and most of the houses were dark and silent, closed off from the cold winter chill and the man staggering down the sidewalk. He would gladly swallow his pride for a moment if anyone left their homes and found him, he just wanted to sit down, clean up and snuggle into a hug pile for comfort.

No one came out. Michael kept walking.

\---

“I’m calling the cops.” Jack announced, leaning against a fence as he pulled out his phone. They had taken the route all the way around and home a total of three times with no luck, Michael was nowhere to be seen and they were freaking out.

“Where could he have gone? Where the fuck could he be?” Geoff wheezed, breathing thin from his panicked running. 

“I don’t know but he isn’t here, Geoff.” Ryan called out, running a shaking hand through his hair.

Jack had his phone in his hand again, fingers tapping against the screen dialling the familiar number and was just a single movement away from hitting call when they heard it.

“MICHAEL!”

\---

_Just one more step, just one more step and then a few hundred more and you’ll be home._

His limp was getting worse, more through exhaustion than injury but he was sure he’d heard about over using injured limbs making the problem more severe, great. He was dizzy, the black spots on the edge of his vision staying put the entire journey, taunting him and daring him to close his eyes just for a second so he could go down. He would really love to just lie down right there on the street, just for a moment to gather himself. _No, get back to them._

It felt like miles, like he had travelled the length of the state and back, every step took years and he left his brain five paces back scrabbling desperately to keep up. It felt like forever but he was finally in the homestretch, he could see houses he knew by heart, street corners that he recognised perfectly and the line of frozen trees down the road that he loved.

Then he spotted Gavin. And Gavin spotted him. With a relieved cry he limped faster, completely ignoring the pain throbbing through him as he pushed his body to its limits.

They all looked up comically in sync at Gavins cry and watched the Brit tear off down the street towards the sign at the other end. They called after him but soon joined him when they saw what had caught Gavins attention.

Michael collapsed into Gavins arms as the Brit reached him, already shaking with silent sobs.

“Michael, Michael it’s okay Michael.” Gavin soothed, lowering them both to the ground and rocking him gently.

“Fucking Christ Michael we’ve been looking for you for hours, what the fuck happened?” Geoff babbled, falling to his knees beside the pair and sucking in a harsh breath when he saw the black bruise decorating his loves temple.

“Th- They took m-my phone.” Michael stammered through the tears, hands shaking as they clutched the material of Gavins hoodie. Ryan growled and had to hug Ray close to his body to stop himself from going apeshit on everything around him, someone hurt Michael and they fucking got away with it.

“We should get him inside.” Jack pointed out, gesturing to the twitching curtains, lights streaming through from the windows around them.

“Come on.” Geoff said, tapping Michael on the shoulder and standing up, waiting for Michael to do the same and frowning down at Gavin when the redhead made no attempt at moving.

“I think he’s asleep.” Gavin whispered, looking up at Geoff with wide, worried eyes. Even he knew that a bruise like that meant a head injury, and a head injury meant he really shouldn’t be sleeping.

Jack bent down and nudged Gavin away so he could get his arms under Michaels knees and shoulders, he lifted the man into his arms and swore angrily under his breath as the streetlights cast orange over Michaels face and the nature of his injuries were lit up for all to see. His nose bloodied and cooked, the bruise they had seen looking much worse and much darker now that it was exposed and scratches all down the lads arms and hands from the concrete he had fallen on. Then there was the still weeping wound on his knee, dried blood mixed with fresh and dirty skin from compacted stone and dust. They had no doubt there would be more wounds hidden beneath the torn shirt he was wearing either.

“Ambulance?” He suggested to Geoff but the older man shook his head.

“Nah, just get him in the car, it’ll be quicker.” Ryan had already gone back inside to fetch the keys and Geoff helped a shaking Gavin to his feet as jack headed over to the vehicle.

They huddled together in the car watching the young man, Gavin had his hand on Michaels chest, making sure the breaths kept coming and the gents remained silent, seething rage boiling beneath the surface at the thought that Michael had been so hurt, more that they hadn’t been able to do a single thing.

Relief was in the air that he was still there, still safe, still alive.


End file.
